Psychiatrist
by Cameron Kennedy
Summary: A game of Psychiatrist goes horribly right: America forces himself to think, France claims to be a virgin, Hungary has a nosebleed, Japan becomes hopelessly confused, and Spain is NOT getting laid tonight... CRACK. Collab with scrambled-eggs-at-midnight.


_EDIT: Apparently, not everyone calls this game "Psychiatrist," so the warning below doesn't really apply anymore. Oops. XD_

_EDIT 2: Changed literally three words in this whole fic. 18-7-2013_

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><p><strong>Authors' Notes:<strong>

This is a co-written fic by _scrambled-eggs-at-midnight_ and _Cameron Kennedy_. (Meaning, Cameron wrote plot and Eggy skipped behind and filled in silly things.) I (Eggy) feel the need to point that out. :D

**If you HAVE NOT played the game Psychiatrist: **TURN BACK NOW, or else you will become severely confused. Or, on the off-chance that it happens, you might actually learn how to play, which makes you a big cheater because you basically skipped the initiation process. So just don't read it.

**If you HAVE played the game Psychiatrist: **This fic should make sense. Sort of. Don't look for an exact pattern in the answers or read into it too deeply if you don't understand exactly who is talking about whom, because some of them are a little ambiguous. Feel free to speculate in a review. ^^ Also, OUR version of Psychiatrist and YOUR version of Psychiatrist might vary slightly (according to Wikipedia, anyway), but the rules we use here are basically explained, so hopefully there isn't any confusion. And yes, we know that the game played in this particular fic is relatively short compared to the ones in real life—we just got lazy and ran out of good ideas for questions. XD

Cameron wants to add that a fair portion of these questions were, indeed, asked to some unfortunate souls the last time she played—this crap is WAY too funny to be completely made up. (And hopefully nobody gets confused that occasionally a human name/nickname is used?)

Also, the both of us LOVE reviews, so if you could spare a moment, we want to know what everyone thinks of this~

(We need a disclaimer? Please, as if our lack of ownership even needs to be mentioned at this point...)

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><p><strong><em>~ Psychiatrist ~<em>**

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><p>"Whoever decided to hold the bloody meeting HERE—in CHICAGO , in the DEAD OF WINTER—should be drawn and quartered," England grumbled.<p>

"Dude, don't look at me!" America said, pulling his bomber jacket more tightly around his shoulders. "It wasn't my idea! And it sure as hell isn't my fault that we're snowed in here with only fifteen of us!"

"Thirteen," Spain corrected cheerfully. "There are thirteen of us here, _mi amigo_."

"No, there are fifteen," America insisted. "Canada and that bear, Whatsisface, are chilling in that corner over there." He paused. "No pun intended. Because I totally am freezing my ass off like the rest of you."

"I am agreeing with England, aru," China said, crossing his arms. "I am not appreciating this cold."

"The weather is bad?" Russia asked innocently. "Da, I hadn't even noticed."

Unfortunately for everyone else, Russia seemed to be the only nation there who was blissfully unaware of the temperature (except for maybe that brother of America's whom everyone had forgotten about.) Italy shuddered from cold in the meeting room, and Germany was awkwardly trying to make him feel better by letting the Italian sit in his lap. Needless to say, Romano was NOT happy about this and sending them both death glares from across the table—when he could get his teeth to stop chattering for a moment, that is. "WHO THE FUCK TURNED OFF THE FUCKING HEAT?" he yelled at nobody in particular.

"Romano-kun, patience," Japan advised, albiet a bit breathlessly. "The heat has been turned on, but it may take a little while to begin working."

Hungary was curled up next to Austria (who didn't seem to be complaining) and also shivering. "Can we do something to pass the time instead of just arguing?" she asked.

Austria nodded in agreement. "We're certainly not going to get anything important accomplished with THIS small group, and we might as well try to have a little fun."

After getting over the initial shock of hearing the word "fun" come out of Austria's mouth (without inflected scorn and disapproval of all things associated with it and its inappropriate behavior, anyway), everyone decided not to attack him in the end for his insult—because they knew it was true or they were too cold to really care; nobody could be terribly sure—and consider the possibilities of the statement.

Then France spoke up.

"We," he said lazily, leaning back in his chair, "should play Psychiatrist."

And so the momentary peace was broken. Chicago natives everywhere paused and looked around in bewilderment as every annoying pigeon in the city took flight in noise-induced fear.

"HELL YES!" Prussia jumped up and screamed, banging his fist on the table.

"HELL NO!" England jumped up and screamed back.

Italy sat straight up in Germany's lap; Germany almost dropped him on the floor at the sudden action, putting himself in the awkward position of having an Italian dangling upside-down from his knees. "'Psychiatrist'?" he asked, absentmindedly righting Italy. "Do you know what that is?"

"Ve, of course I do~!" Italy chirped. "You've never played, Germany~?"

Germany shook his head and was about to respond further when Romano shouted over everyone, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

"Psychiatrist!" Spain cheerfully answered, ruffling Romano's hair (much to the younger nation's displeasure.) "You've never played it either, _mi tomatito?"_

"NO! And god-DAMN-it, STOP CALLING ME A TOMATO!"

"Do you know this game, aru?" China asked Japan.

"...No, I do not," Japan admitted. "Have you played it before?"

China smirked and nodded an affirmative, pleased that he was possibly able to outsmart his little brother in something. With a small frown, Japan turned away and directed his attention to France, England, America, and that one nation who smelled like maple syrup.

"NO!" England yelled in a huff. "I WON'T play this bleeding game with you! And ALFRED JONES, don't you DARE try making puppy-dog eyes at me!"

"Ah, _mon __cher_!" France grinned. "You simply MUST play!"

"STOP CALLING ME 'DEAR'!"

"But England," America whined, "if I don't know how to play, then you might actually BEAT me! Not that I'd let that happen, of course, being a hero—"

"THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!" England shouted. "You either know how it's played and have done it before, or you've never played it and have to figure out the rules on your own!"

America paused. On one hand, the game required... well, it required thinking, which, unless giant robots were involved, was not America's strong point. On the other hand...

America broke into a huge grin. "Well then, I'll kick everyone else's noob asses!"

"Haha, you're funny, Al..."

"...Who the bloody hell just said that?"

"I'm Canada!"

It was at this point that Russia decided that he had had enough of the others' arguing, so he began smiling in that creepy way of his. Not even thirty seconds later, the room was dead silent.

"Okay," Prussia said as he climbed on the table (ignoring the death-glare that Russia sent his way), "so stand up or something if you HAVEN'T played Psychiatrist before!"

America jumped up; Japan glanced warily at the door (read: mapped his escape route) before standing. Germany was up a bit late, since he had to wrestle Italy off of his lap in order to get onto his feet. After some coaxing from Spain, Romano stood, and Austria eventually got up from his position on the chair with his ex-wife.

"...AWESOME!" Prussia looked like he was about to eat his own ears, he was grinning so hard. "Hey, Russia, help me round these guys into that closet over there!"

And again, the momentary peace was broken.

"EXCUSE ME?"

"Wait, WHAT?"

"WHAT THE FU—"

Russia began smiling again...

...And upon seeing that, they all practically tripped over themselves to get away. Once inside the aforementioned closet, China put a chair under the knob and turned to the rest of the group.

"So, how do you propose we begin, aru?"

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><p>After much arguing and drawing of straws (Seriously. They were pink. No one asked where France found them, because no one really wanted to know), Hungary removed the chair and let the closet door fall open.<p>

"Holy _Füher_, that closet was cold," Germany muttered as they stumbled out (Austria couldn't be positive, but he was pretty sure that Hungary took a photo with her cell phone of that sight.).

"Then you should have used body-heat to keep yourselves warm," France suggested smugly.

They were spared from replying when America said, "Dudes, what the heck happened to the meeting room?"

Since America's skills of observation weren't _that _lacking, the other nations noticed that there were indeed now several chairs forming a circle, and that they were all occupied by Prussia, Hungary, China, Russia, France, England, Spain, Italy, and that one other guy (whatever his name was.) "You all get to sit in the center!" Spain said happily.

Tentatively, America, Japan, Romano, Germany, and Austria stepped around the others and sat cross-legged on the floor. "So... are you going to tell us what's going on?" Austria asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope~!" Italy said. "You're supposed to ask us questions and figure it out for yourself~!"

"Wait, England was SERIOUS?" America groaned. "Dude, I thought he was kidding!"

"Damn git, of COURSE I was serious!" England muttered back at him. "We answer your questions, and you try to understand how the game works!"

"...What the hell kind of shit do we even ask?" Romano grumbled.

"Anything you'd like!" France smirked. "ESPECIALLY if it involves sex—those questions are the most fun to answer."

"You would think so," England muttered. France winked at him.

"But you have to ask one specific person, aru," China said.

"And you can't ask anything unawesome like, 'What color shirt are you wearing?' because that's just lame," Prussia continued. "But you CAN ask what our favorite kind of crap is. And yeah, sex questions are the most awesome to answer, so we recommend asking a lot of those."

"...Okay, I guess I'll try..." Austria offered.

"Sweet!" Prussia said. "Go for it!"

Austria glanced around at their expectant faces for just a moment before settling his eyes on France. "So, France... What's your favorite color?"

France gave a resigned sigh. "That is a very boring question, _mon __cher_, but... green."

"...Green?" America said. "Why the hell do you like green? I'd have guessed your fave was pink or something prissy."

France turned up his nose, and China gave a small shrug. "Next, aru!"

Japan raised his hand. "Spain-san, what is your favorite color?"

Everyone groaned—there was no way they were going to get anywhere if things kept going at this pace. But nevertheless, Spain thought over the question and finally responded, "Well... lavender."

Japan raised an eyebrow. "Lavender?"

Romano jumped up. "NO WAY! YOUR FAVORITE FUCKING COLOR IS RED—LIKE RIPE TOMATOES! Which I totally don't know because I don't give a shit, by the way!"

Spain grinned. "Nope! I definitely like light purple!"

Russia fiddled with his scarf and let a small smirk slide onto his face; England huffed, and Canada hugged Kumajiro with a sigh. Everyone ignored him.

"...I have a question," Germany said dryly. "And no, it isn't about anyone's favorite color."

The people in the circle seemed to sit up a little straighter. "Excellent!" Hungary beamed. "For whom?"

"For... Italy, I guess." Germany turned towards the Italian (who seemed positively enthralled at the attention) and asked, "We're friends, ja? So spare me the humiliation and tell me how to play this damn game, please?"

England facepalmed. "You can't ask that question; it's against the rules! And Italy, don't you DARE answer him—"

"It's okay, England!" Italy cheerfully said. "Germany and I haven't EVER been good friends, ve~!"

America blinked. "Wait. What the heck just—"

"WHAT THE FUCK? _Mi fratello _FINALLY got some sense knocked into him?" Romano looked extremely smug by this turn of events. Spain shook his head and rolled his eyes, realizing that Romano's smugness would turn into disappointment soon enough.

Canada held back his snickers at the obvious shock on Germany's face. None of the five nations in the center noticed that Italy and China briefly made eye-contact during the confusion.

"Look, _mis amigos_," Spain said, interrupting the chaos, "we're never going to finish this game if we keep this pace up. Continue asking questions until one of you thinks that you know what's going on, _por favor_—"

"Dude, I've got one! And it doesn't suck!" America shouted. "Hey Artie, who was the last person who slept with you?"

The room erupted in laughter; France began his mantra of "onhonhonhon"s, Hungary squealed and clapped with joy, and Prussia's "Now THAT'S more like it!" was interspersed with cackling.

England was beet-red and looked like he was going to blow a gasket. "Bleeding GIT! I am going to KILL you!"

"Now I can see why England doesn't like this game..." Canada sighed to his bear.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Canada!"

"That was a rather rude question," Austria said to America.

"Dude, I don't care!" America said. "I just want to know!"

England snapped. "I LAST SLEPT WITH FRANCE!" he said. "NOW ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY?"

All of a sudden, Italy jumped up from his seat. "Psychiatrist~!"

And without warning, everyone in the circle was scrambling to a different chair.

"The hell—?"

"Where—?"

"OUCH, THAT WAS MY FOOT!"

"MATTIE! When did you get here?"

"AL! I've been here this WHOLE TIME!"

Germany and Japan both looked moderately terrified, and Romano screamed when Russia almost stepped on him in a rush. Only Austria remained completely calm, observing the chaos with disapproval.

When the excitement finally died down, Romano yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?"

"Don't worry, _mi tomatito_!" Spain said cheerfully from his new seat. "It's all a part of the game!"

"Just keep asking us things," Canada said softly, "and eventually you'll—"

"Just keep asking us things," Russia interrupted, "and eventually you'll figure it out, da?"

"I have another question!" America pointed directly at Russia and, with an odd grin on his face, said, "You're still secretly a commie, aren't you, you crazy bastard?"

England facepalmed, Prussia's mouth stretched into a shit-eating grin, and China bit his lip.

Russia's smiled. "Maybe I am communist. What's it to you?"

"Wait." America looked like someone had taken away his favorite giant robot and replaced it with something practical. "Dude, SERIOUSLY?"

"Da," Russia said dryly. "Get over it."

"Oh... Damn, I was... only kidding," he finished lamely.

Canada patted his brother on the head.

"China," Germany said suddenly. "Question."

"Hm?" China replied, turning toward the German. "This had better be a good one, aru."

"I really cannot believe that I'm about to ask this..." Germany sighed and partially grimaced. "What things do you find... sexually attractive?"

Without skipping a beat, China answered, "There are too many for me to narrow it down, aru."

Prussia began grinning like an idiot (again), and Hungary failed miserably at hiding her snickers.

"But China, _mon cher_," France smoothly said, a strange gleam in his eyes, "you did not answer the question! You must give at least ONE example!"

China raised an eyebrow for a moment, then began scowling. "An example, aru? FINE," he said, with a bit of venom in his voice. "One thing I find VERY sexy is the thought of England wearing a maid's outfit with a very short skirt and high heels!"

"WHAT?" the Brit shouted.

"I enjoy imagining him wearing this outfit AND I am equally turned on by the thought of him topping me." China positively glared at France. "NOW are you HAPPY, aru?"

France's laughter got caught in his throat, and for the first time that anyone could remember, he actually looked rather embarrassed about something. He coughed.

England, on the other hand, looked torn between wanting to kill China and wanting to castrate France. Strangely, after several seconds of staring, China's look of malice towards France turned into one of surprise, then confusion, and finally one of smug satisfaction.

Everyone else's reactions in the outer circle ranged from suppressing smiles to literally falling off their seats out of laughter.

On the inside of the circle, nobody had a clue what the hell was going on. Except for Austria, apparently. "Prussia, please calm yourself and get up off the floor."

Prussia looked up at him, eyes watering, still clutching his sides. "The Awesome Me TOTALLY doesn't have to listen to you!" But he did anyway, mumbling something about how the tile wasn't very comfortable.

"Next!" Spain shouted.

"You, the Albino Potato Bastard!" Romano yelled. "What the hell's your favorite thing to eat?"

Prussia wiggled his eyebrows. "Your mom."

"Gross!" Canada said. "PSYCHIATRIST!"

And again, all the nations sitting in the chairs jumped up and switched seats.

"Okay, seriously," America asked once they'd settled down, "what's up with that?"

"It makes perfect sense to me," Austria said dryly.

"Oh~!" Italy said excitedly. "Have you figured out how to play~?"

"...I think so," the Austrian admitted, "but I want to observe for a bit longer to make sure."

"That's fine, da," Russia said cheerfully. "Someone ask a question now!"

"Hey, Spain!" America began. "Is it true you're banging Romano?"

The thought processes in the room stopped so quickly you could practically hear the squealing brakes; they careened out the door, around the corner, and smashed into a wall.

The Southern Italian was the first to recover. "WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK YOU GODDAMN PIECE OF SHIT I AM GOING TO ABSOLUTELY—!"

Romano thoroughly promised America that he would castrate him before the "conference" ended while Spain, on the other hand, was sputtering incoherent Spanish phrases with bright red cheeks; Italy, for the first time that ANYONE could remember, looked quite disturbed by something in the situation.

Finally, Spain managed a weak reply. "Ha ha... No?"

"Aw, damn!" America pouted. Romano continued to bore holes in the American's head and imagine all the fun ways to kill him. Spain twiddled his thumbs in the awkward silence.

"But wait, there's more!" Prussia said. "Okay, someone ask another question! Anything! Anything at all! Step right up! Don't be shy!" When he was met with glares, he huffed, "So you need a prompt? Okay... Japan: what's the dirtiest question you can think of to ask... um... Hungary?"

Japan let a small gasp of horror slip out, and Prussia pounced. "Dude, what did you think of?"

"NO!" Japan pleaded. "Please do NOT make me ask her a question! It's too improper!"

"But otherwise it ruins all the fun!" France pointed out.

"Aw, it's okay," Hungary said gently. "I won't be offended by it, I promise!" She paused. "Besides, I think Prussia will bug you until you ask anyway. You might as well get it over with."

Japan turned a bright shade of red. "I... I was thinking... if maybe..."

His sentence turned into incomprehensible muttering, and America jabbed him in the ribs. "Dude, speak up!"

If it was possible, Japan blushed even more. "I was thinking that perhaps Hungary-chan was... you know, observing... the... moon... at this time..."

Hungary blinked. "...What?"

China rolled his eyes and faceplamed with a sigh. "He's asking you if you are having your period, aru."

And the entire room burst out laughing. Hungary grinned. "Japan, you dirty mind!" She clapped her hands and squealed at the scarlet shade of his face before shouting out, "Am I on my period? YES!"

England jumped up and absolutely exploded. "PSYCHIATRIST, GODDAMMIT!"

Cue the usual stampede.

As soon as the chaos died down (again), Germany spoke. "...I think I understand," he announced.

Italy began clapping. "YAY LUDI~!"

The German turned bright red at his friend's enthusiasm. "So... ahem... what do I do now?"

"Come over here, aru," China instructed, "and whisper in my ear how to play this game. If you're right, we'll pull up another chair and you can join the circle."

Germany analyzed this and nodded before saying several sentences to China in a hushed voice. After a moment of silence—

"He's got it, aru," the China confirmed.

"GOOD JOB, _BRUDER_! I knew I raised you well—ACK, DON'T HIT ME!" Prussia rubbed his arm and cackled. He pulled up a chair and placed it between England and Spain. "Join the patients and let the awesome game unfold! Someone hit him up, please! I mean, figuratively, but if you want to hit him LITERALLY, that's okay too."

"So... Germany-san," Japan said, "I have a question for you: what is your favorite book?" Clearly he was trying to think of ways to make the game more appropriate, as was reflected by the vaguely hopeful look on his face.

Several pairs of eyes focused on Germany as he considered how to answer. "The... er..." For a few moments, the German was at a loss, but then he suddenly decided, "I think it would probably be... the _Kama Sutra_?"

Japan looked extremely horrified at that, and France looked vaguely impressed; when nobody yelled "Psychiatrist!" at his response, Germany facepalmed.

"Oh, the _Kama Sutra_: pride and joy of India," England remarked dryly. "Next!"

"Um..." Japan glanced around and tried asking another (hopefully) innocent question. "Hungary-chan, what is your favorite hobby?"

"...Erm..." She thought a moment before hesitantly replying, "...Masturbation?"

France didn't even try to hide his grin; Prussia reached over and gave him a fist-bump while wearing his friend's exact same facial expression.

Japan promptly gave up for the time being as he rubbed his temples with a blush.

"Hey, Roddy!" Prussia jeered. "Ask a question!"

Austria turned up his nose at the nickname. "No," he said.

"Aw, but why not?" Hungary asked.

"I'm waiting for the right time to ask a very specific question," he replied

Canada could have sworn he wasn't crazy (that condition belonged to America, thank you very much) ... but did Austria just WINK at his ex?

"OH! All righty then!" Hungary said, and—was that ANOTHER wink back at him?

"Hey! Tea-drinking Bastard!" Romano shouted suddenly.

England sighed. "What the bloody hell do YOU want to ask?"

"The Burger Bastard already asked who you last fucked around with, and you said it was the Frog Bastard, right?"

After thinking through all of Romano's nicknames for the various nations, England replied, "Um... Is that your question?"

Romano got a rather evil glint in his eye. "How many times?"

England gave him an incredulous look. "...PARDON?"

"How many times have you fucked with the damn Frog Bastard?" Romano repeated stubbornly.

England shot a few glances around the group before slowly answering, "Um... maybe... three?"

Everyone in the outer circle held their breath as they all subtly glanced at Russia to see his reaction. After a moment of silence, the Russian let an ominous expression slide onto his face and allowed a few "kolkolkol"s to slip out under his breath.

"Aaaaawkwaaaaard..."

"Oh, shut UP, America!"

Then Italy giggled, Spain began smiling, and eventually everyone else relaxed.

"France," America said suddenly. "Shag carpeting or linoleum?"

France blinked. "Come again?"

"Shag carpeting or linoleum?" America repeated.

Everyone glanced around confusedly at one another. "What the fuck does THAT mean?" Romano blurted out. "Spain, WHAT THE HELL IS HE TALKING ABOUT?"

Spain gave him a carefree shrug and smiled. "I have no idea, _mi tomatito_!"

"America, could you say that in terms that we actually understand?" England said.

America rolled his eyes. "Dude, fine. France, do you wax your vital regions?"

Russia snorted, and Hungary bit her lip to hide a smile when she saw Germany's cheeks turn deep red.

"..._Amérique,_ I'm European," France said, a glint in his eye. "I allow my hair to grow _au __naturel_."

Germany groaned and put his head in his hands to hide his face.

America, however, didn't notice and instead turned to his brother. "Yo, Mattie!" He paused and let the other nations realize who he was talking to before he asked, "Who, out of the people in this room, has the most sex appeal to you?"

Canada considered this for a moment before softly answering, "Well... Gilbert, probably—"

"PSYCHIATRIST, ARU!"

Canada giggled to himself as he rushed across the room towards Prussia, who was cackling, and gave him a high-five.

"Hey, _fratello_!" All heads turned to the Italian as he shouted out, "Have you made out with the fucking Potato Bastard?"

Italy blinked before cheerfully responding, "Nope~!"

His brother breathed a sigh of relief. "GOOD!"

While Romano was busy looking pleased by this, Germany and Spain exchanged glances; the Spaniard made a face while the German pretended to gag.

"...I will now ask my question," Austria said suddenly.

"IT'S ABOUT TIME!" Prussia huffed. "Okay, for whom?"

"You, actually."

Prussia looked surprised. "Wait, for me?"

"Yes, for you. Prussia..." He paused, as if unsure how to continue. "...Are you still interested in invading my vital regions?

For a full moment, the room was dead silent.

"...WHAT?" Canada exclaimed.

"Is he bloody SERIOUS?" England gaped.

Hungary's eyes grew impossibly wide and a HUGE grin overtook her face.

For the longest time, Prussia could only stare. "...Holy SHIT, Roddy," he finally managed, "are you fucking asking for REAL?"

"Of course I am!" the Austrian said indignantly. "And I could be wrong, but I believe there's only one answer to my question anyway."

"There is NOT!" Prussia yelled back. "I can respond to that however the hell I want to!"

Hungary cleared her throat loudly, her grin still firmly in-place. "Oh, but there IS only one correct answer," she said in a threatening voice.

Prussia looked between the two of them with contempt, trying to decide which was the lesser of the two evils: his wounded pride or Hungary and her frying pan.

Romano and Japan did the same, obviously confused by the whole exchange. America stared intently at Prussia with an odd expression that nobody could read.

Finally, Prussia snapped, "YES, Austria, I am EXTREMELY interested in invading your vital regions. Happy?"

"Very." The Austrian stood up and whispered something in Hungary's ear. After a moment, her impossibly large smirk grew again.

"Go get yourself a chair," she said proudly.

"DAMMIT!" America said. "How's that even FAIR? He only asked, like, three questions before he figured it out!"

"Two," Austria corrected as he sat down.

"Yeah, well, go fuck yourself!" Romano said.

"Aw, _¡__mi tomatito__!_" Spain cooed. "That's not very nice!"

"I AM NOT A TOMATO!"

"Since when has he EVER been nice, aru?" China said.

"GO TO HELL."

Japan decided in that moment that it was a good time to try again; he blinked and glanced around the circle before asking, "Russia-san, how cold are your winters?"

"My winters are very mild, da," the Russian responded with a smile, "but sometimes I get tired of the rain."

"The... rain?" Japan became even more confused; he looked around for an explanation, but all he got was a small shrug from England.

"You! Pervy Frog Bastard!" Romano shouted. "What's the most you've ever jacked off in a day?"

France grinned. "About fifteen times, I think—"

"PSYCHIATRIST, you pussy!" Prussia shouted.

After yet another stampede, America asked, "Hey, Germany! Between you and Italy—hypothetically, of course, because otherwise Romano is gonna kick my ass—who tops during sex?"

Japan groaned and covered his ears as Romano blew a gasket and started screaming in Italian; everyone else was snickering uncontrollably at the mental images they got from the question. Italy was VERY confused and was looking at Germany rather helplessly, while the German was blinking and trying to figure out how to answer the question. "Um... I guess... he does?"

"Spain~!" Italy whispered to the Spaniard next to him. "Ve, how do I top myself~?"

Spain shrugged cheerfully and patted him on the head. "Just let it go!"

Still bewildered, Italy turned his attention back to the game. Romano continued ranting until Japan interrupted by raising his voice and saying, "England-san!"

"Yeah?" the Brit asked in between snickers.

Japan lowered his head and finally acknowledged defeat by asking, "I apologize for this obscene question, but—have you ever partaken in voyeurism?"

France burst out laughing; Canada pursed his lips, and England looked positively shocked. "Bloody hell, NO!" the Englishman squeaked.

He cast a sideways look at the wide-eyed Canadian, and to everyone's surprise they heard, ever-so-softly, "...Psychiatrist."

Prussia's jaw hit the ground before he suddenly realized that everyone else was switching seats—then he abruptly stood up and rushed over to high-five Canada, who was blushing furiously.

"QUESTION!" America shouted. "France, are you a virgin?"

"WHAT THE FUCK? Are you completely RETARDED?" Romano spat.

"Actually... I am," France said, sounding surprised.

"SWEET!" America jumped straight up in the air. "HEY, EVERYONE, I FIGURED IT OUT!" He then rushed over to England and began whispering into his ear.

"...He's right," England allowed, resigning himself to the fact that, indeed, America wasn't always as stupid as he looked.

"I DON'T FUCKING GET IT!" Romano shouted. "First _mi fratello _says that he isn't fucking friends with Potato Bastard Number One, then the Tomato Bastard downright LIES and says we're not sleeping together, and now you expect us to believe that FRANCE THE FUCKFACE IS A FUCKING VIRGIN—?"

"WAIT!" Prussia cackled. "Toni and Lovi FINALLY got together? AWESOME! It's about damn time!"

Hungary pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to her nose. Spain, after realizing what the Italian had just announced, grinned like a madman, and France gave him a high-five.

Oddly enough, Japan was the one to empathize with the Italian. "Romano-kun, I'm just as confused as you are," he admitted.

"All right," China sighed, "how's this: you each ask two more questions, and if you can't figure out the game by then, we'll take pity on you and explain, aru."

"Deal," Japan agreed.

Those four questions went by rather quickly.

"Burger Bastard! Who's the best fuck you've ever had?"

"Aw, man, I don't have a clue—wait! DUDE, I KNOW! Marilyn Monroe was freaking AWESOME in bed—!"

"_NYET_! Psychiatrist!"

"Hungary-chan, who is your favorite poet?"

"Erm... Shakespeare?"

"Okay then; Italy-kun, what is your weapon of choice?"

"Ve, a wok~!"

"You! That bastard with the bear whose name I forget! Are you dating anyone?"

"Your mom."

"NOT AWESOME, MATTIE! PSYCHIATRIST!"

"HOLD UP!" Everyone who had been getting ready to switch places suddenly stopped when Germany got their attention. "That was the last question," he said solemnly.

"Why, so it was," Austria said.

"Awesome," Prussia grinned. "Let's explain this bitch."

Over the span of the next ten minutes, Japan and Romano attempted to understand how the game Psychiatrist worked. It took several repeated sentences, lots of yelling, an insane number of examples, some crude gestures from Prussia, and, when all else failed, letting someone with sense (Canada) explain the rules, but eventually the point got across.

"THIS HAS TO BE THE DUMBEST FUCKING GAME OF ALL TIME," Romano yelled. "I HATE ALL OF YOU!" He wasted no time in stomping his foot and storming out of the room in a fit.

"...Spain," America said solemnly, "I hate to say this, but I don't think Romano's gonna let you screw him any time soon."

The look of distress on Spain's face grew as he realized that America was probably right. "_¡Pero mi tomatito! ¡ESPERA__!_" Seconds later, he was in pursuit of the Italian and out the door.

Japan blinked. "That was certainly... an experience," he allowed.

"Was if fun?" France asked with a knowing grin.

"...I will refrain from answering that. Now, seeing as the 'meeting' is over, I think I shall take my leave and go to my room." He bowed politely to them all before exiting as well.

Italy began tugging on Germany's sleeve. "Ve, can we go get pasta~?"

Germany sighed and stood up, knowing that arguing would be pointless (even though there probably weren't any restaurants opened with the weather that night anyway—maybe they could find a kitchen in the building or something). "_Ja_, of course." The Italian wasted no time in hurrying them out the door, but before it closed the German managed to address everyone else with a polite, "_Guten Abend_, all of you."

"...Well... the room finally warmed up..." Canada mumbled to himself.

"I KNOW," Prussia groaned while stretching out in his chair. "It's about damn time!" He paused, then added with a wink, "Hey Mattie, let's go spy on those lovebirds! Two voyeurs are better than one—"

"Says the nation who'll be busy invading Austria's vital regions tonight," the Canadian retorted.

Prussia blinked and scowled before dragging the northern country out of the room with him.

Between the remaining nations, there was an awkward silence.

"So... Hungary," Austria finally said. "Shall we?"

Hungary giggled like a schoolgirl as Austria extended an arm. "I have to say—your question was the best invitation to bed I've EVER heard."

The Austrian beamed. "I figured you'd appreciate the finesse; I CAN be creative if I—"

"Oh, sod off," England said grumpily. "Go find a bleeding broom closet already."

Hungary stuck her tongue out at the Brit and kept giggling as she and Austria rushed out.

"Okay, what the hell," America commented. "That was just plain AWKWARD."

"Da!" Russia agreed. "Now I want some vodka!"

"...That's no help, aru," China mumbled under his breath.

"So now what?" France asked. "There are five of us left... with nowhere to go... and nothing to get done tonight..."

The former Allied Powers all glanced at each other for another minute or so before simultaneously standing up.

"I think it's time to leave," England said dryly, "before we end up playing 'Duck, Duck, Goose'."

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><p>Review? Please? :D<p> 


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